


Aesculapius Hypnoticus

by Mass_Effecting_Your_Pants



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-07
Updated: 2013-03-07
Packaged: 2017-12-04 13:52:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/711463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mass_Effecting_Your_Pants/pseuds/Mass_Effecting_Your_Pants
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy friendship. And Draco knew that Potter and he had such a fierce rivalry going on because they both loved the challenge. It was strange to know that it could have been something friendly, like this now. Yes, it was nearly always exciting, but this...this was fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aesculapius Hypnoticus

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on fanfiction.net under the following:-
> 
> Title: Aesculapius Hypnoticus  
> Category: Books » Harry Potter  
> Author: Mass Effecting Your Pants  
> Language: English, Rating: Rated: T  
> Genre: Friendship/General  
> Published: 12-02-09, Updated: 12-02-09  
> Chapters: 1, Words: 9,648
> 
> **Hermione's textbook potion explanation is pretty much courtesy of good ol' Wikipedia.

Harry stared at the narrow piece of wall above the blackboard blindly, completely tuned out of the class.

Certainly he had kept up the pretence of listening for about twenty minutes or so by scribbling down some notes as Snape droned on, but he could always rely on Hermione or Dean to catch up on any content he missed. Not that he could pinpoint the moment when he stopped paying attention. He was just staring at that strip of dungeon brick that was visible above the board, oblivious to everything around him; thinking about Quidditch training, the upcoming game against Slytherin, the Charms homework he needed to finish off, the extra parchment he needed to stock up on, what the house elves were organising for dinner…in short, thinking about everything except the Potions class he was currently attending.

This was quite the oversight on Harry's part. Finally in to his seventh year of magic schooling and a lesson he clearly hadn't learnt was to pay attention in Potions; if not for his own skin then for the good of Gryffindor's house points…or at least to fulfil his Auror dream. Today, however, Snape must have felt that Harry needed more motivation to listen then docking points.

" _Psst, Harry! Blimey, Harry, get with it!"_

Ron's urgent whisper and elbow to his ribs startled Harry into upsetting his ink. He righted it quickly, spelling away the fresh spatters ruining his notes before they dried. Of course when he looked up, his attention again focused on the lesson, he discovered that Ron's warning had been entirely too late. Slytherin and Gryffindor alike all stared at him with varying expressions, from Ron's sympathetic glance and Hermione's exasperation to Pansy Parkinson's obvious glee in seeing what Snape planned to do about the wonder boy's consistent lack of attentiveness. Harry wasn't sure if Snape had called on him with a question or if he had attracted attention with his ink spill. Either way, the professor was most certainly focused on him now.

"Sir?" he asked neutrally, searching his brain for what ever they had been covering, coming up with practically nothing.

Snape remained impassive at the front of the room leaning against his own desk slightly, arms crossed and face giving no clue as to what Harry should expect.

"Out of…sheer curiosity, Potter," he began almost conversationally, which put Harry on alert immediately, "do you have any idea what this class has covered over the past forty minutes?"

Harry resisted the urge to glance down at his seriously scant notes. He hated it when Snape caught him out like this, and yet couldn't really hate the man for it because _he_ was the one setting himself up by not paying attention. That didn't mean he wasn't frustrated as Harry knew that the Potions professor relished singling him out.

"Er," Harry stalled, _what had the lesson been about?_ "How to make…and the, uh, effects of…a…potion called… _Hypnosis Askle_ -erhm…"

Surely Snape was satisfied that he couldn't even remember the name of the potion, let alone its effects on the imbiber; not that Harry was thinking clearly with the way distinctly Slytherin sniggering in the background made his blood boil.

" _Aesculapius Hypnoticus_ ," Snape corrected, his lip curling as he picked up a prepared sample of the potion, shaking the vial lightly between his index finger and thumb. "I dare say you would struggle in explaining the effects when you so clearly couldn't wrap your mind around merely its name."

It was on the tip of Harry's tongue to make a vague link between hypnosis and the potion's name, figuring there was a connection there somehow, but he kept quiet – wanting out of Snape's spotlight. Unfortunately, the Potions Master ignored his least favourite student's subtle submission and gestured to the board…where Harry saw, with a sinking heart, a brief description of the potion as well as its name.

"As you can see on the board – you _can_ read, can't you Potter – _Aesculapius Hypnoticus_ is relatively uncomplicated to prepare. The effects barely last an hour, however due to its nature it is a concoction that the Ministry has discussed banning," Snape turned his piercing gaze toward his class again, focusing on a single raised hand in particular. "…Granger?"

"Sir," she began, being one of few Gryffindors who had grown out of hesitating under the man's stare and actually _liked_ the subject. "The textbook states that _Aesculapius Hypnoticus_ causes a state of focused attention and heightened suggestibility with somewhat diminished peripheral awareness. This means that the potion may bring about changes in subjective experience, alterations in perception, sensation, emotion, thought or behaviour."

Harry had close to no idea what Hermione had just said and, exchanging a stupefied glance with Ron, was relieved to find he wasn't alone.

"Doesn't that make it incredibly similar to the _Imperius_ Unforgivable?" she continued. "That's why the Ministry wants to impose restrictions to its use, isn't it, so why haven't they?"

Harry thought Snape secretly loved having a student like Hermione in his class; someone who asked the right questions, who was avidly interested in the topic and challenged him. It was only ruined by the girl belonging to the wrong house and befriending the wrong people.

"You said it yourself, Granger," Snape rolled the potion in question around in his hand, his sneer no where near that which he reserved for Harry. " _Aesculapius Hypnoticus_ causes _heightened suggestibility_ while the _Imperius_ curse _controls_. The drinker is still in control."

Hermione frowned, apparently not satisfied. "But the potion basically hypnotises the drinker in to doing what they are asked, meaning they can be put in to a scenario or situation with specific limitations on their actions and memories. They can be controlled."

"Only to a certain point," Snape replied as he began to move slowly toward the Gryffindor trio. "It is still an induced state of suggestibility, however now it is perhaps clear to you as to why the potion is controversial and not widely known, despite its simplicity in preparation."

Harry had been listening with unusual interest, cursing himself for his lack of attention throughout the majority of the lesson. The potion was surprisingly interesting, and Harry was curious about what he had missed…until the professor's gaze settled on him, a glint in his eye sending alarm bells ringing in Harry's brain.

"Tomorrow you will _attempt_ to concoct _Aesculapius Hypnoticus_ yourselves but today I will demonstrate its effects on a…volunteer," Snape spun on his heel, his cloak fanning out as he strode to the front of the chamber again.

Harry was far from surprised when Snape called him to the front as the aforementioned 'volunteer'. The potion was certainly interesting, but that didn't mean he wanted to be under its spell…not that he had a choice. Standing to the side of the teacher's desk he darted a look back to Ron and Hermione, somewhat dismayed that neither of them appeared concerned about his position. Not that Harry himself was _overly_ concerned; he was perfectly capable of throwing off the _Imperius_. But it was the thought that counted.

"Malfoy, you can aid with the demonstration also."

"Yes, sir."

Harry, along with the entire class, watched Draco Malfoy as he moved from his seat to stand at the front with his Head of House and Harry. Harry was given a moment to remember that Malfoy existed; the other teen had practically dropped out of his life after Lucius Malfoy and the rest of the Death Eaters had been disbanded and captured. It was strange to think that someone who he had clashed with for almost five years had blended in to the background without him noticing. It was quite a shock, really, to realise he had actually forgotten Malfoy. Harry glanced at him but Malfoy had done the same, causing them to catch each other. The Slytherin jerked his chin slightly in what Harry could only deduce to be some sort of greeting, so he returned the gesture. They had a past full of rough spots and had hurt each other plenty, and Harry found himself wondering if they were sort of even now. It was hard to know if the other teen was as arrogant as he used to be when he hadn't taken any notice of Malfoy for well over a year. Harry was thrown from his thoughts quite suddenly when Snape addressed him.

"Here, Potter," he uncorked the vial and held it toward Harry. "Drink all of it."

Harry took the potion gingerly, sniffing it and taking note of its colour as reference for when he had to make it himself, before downing it in two gulps. The mixture didn't have a wholly unpleasant taste, but dimly he wondered if he should have asked the professor what he ought to expect.

"You should probably sit down for a moment, Potter," and Harry could clearly hear the unconcern in his teacher's voice.

"Right," he said, and was going to remain standing, up until the edge of his vision tinted black and he swayed.

"Right," he said again, and sat in a spare seat quickly, not a moment before he blacked out completely.

XX XX XX

Draco stared at Potter's slumped form, curious and interested in what was happening.

"At this point, Potter is in the state where you would set the scenario and attempt to put in place the limitations on his thoughts, behaviour, actions and so forth," Snape explained impassively, his spelled chalk adding notes to the blackboard as he spoke. "It is at this point when the drinker is at their highest level of suggestibility, so the more likely the imbiber is to _refuse_ your suggestions or the more the suggestion is _against_ what the imbiber would normally do, the _quicker_ you need to give your suggestion. There is no guarantee that he will do what I suggest since he _isn't_ being _controlled_ , but that is as random as a roll of a die; Potter might refuse to do what I suggest today but if I gave him the potion with the exact same set of instructions another time, his reaction will be different. Recall that the potion barely lasts an hour, and you must give a keyword to rouse the drinker from this state. Also recall that _Aesculapius Hypnoticus_ diminishes the peripheral, the drinker's focus widening to normal as the effects wear off."

The class took in this information like a sponge, completely riveted as Snape bent toward Potter. Draco watched keenly, assuming the Potions Master was involving him in what ever scenario he had planned for the demonstration.

"Harry Potter, you have never met Draco Malfoy," Snape began in a low monotonous voice that was still loud in the enthralled silence. "You have no memory of him at all because he is a new student at Hogwarts. Nod if you understand."

Draco watched with slight trepidation as the other teen nodded, still in his unconscious state.

"Harry Potter, you have just met this unknown person outside the Great Hall. You cannot tell which House they are in. Nod if you understand."

He nodded slowly again. Draco wondered what the hell was going to happen and how this potion could possibly make Potter think they were anywhere but the Potions classroom. He suddenly realised what Snape had said and so quickly shrugged off the vest and tie that marked him as Slytherin, folding them neatly to place on Snape's desk.

Snape turned to face his enraptured class. "I don't need to go in to detail about familiar places, objects, concepts and so forth because Potter knows these things. Also, I'm leaving the suggestion fairly broad so he is more likely to accept it, and limit the control I have over him. I need to warn you that Potter will not focus on anything except Malfoy; as I explained earlier his peripheral will widen as the potion wears off."

He nodded at Draco, who stood to attention with a jerk of his head.

"When I say the word 'phoenix' again, you will wake. Phoenix."

Snape stood aside as the unconscious teen stirred, allowing Draco and Potter space for the demonstration. Draco watched as the Gryffindor stood a little unsteadily, blinking rapidly. He felt uncomfortable as bright green eyes focused on him, and wondered if Snape chose him for the demonstration because he could improvise or for a good laugh… _probably the latter_ , Draco thought as Potter moved a few steps closer. He was unexpectedly on the receiving end of something he had never experienced before: the Harry Potter smile at full power. It was highly understandable, Draco thought vaguely, that people followed this boy to war if he smiled like that at everyone.

"Hi!" Potter greeted enthusiastically. "I haven't seen you around Hogwarts before…you transferred?"

"Yes, just today," Draco supplied with a slight smile, relieved that he had been given a story for his 'new student' persona. "My family moved back to London recently."

Potter nodded and thrust out his hand, still smiling. "I'm Harry."

This was entirely too surreal to Draco, but he managed to grasp the other's offered hand. "Draco."

He thought it rather ironic that they were shaking hands now, after more than six years.

"Do you play Quidditch?" Potter cocked his head slightly to the side as they dropped hands, considering him. "It's pretty big here, and a lot of fun with the house rivalries."

Draco bit his lip to keep from snickering at the rivalries comment, thinking in particular of the Gryffindor/Slytherin rivalry. "Yes actually. I play as Seeker."

Potter's eyes widened at that, before he broke out in to another grin. "No kidding! Me too! Do you know what house you're in?"

The Slytherin panicked for a moment, unsure of the Sorting protocol when it came to anyone but the first years. Figuring if he didn't know then Potter definitely wouldn't, he felt it safe to give some sort of explanation.

"No, not yet," he said. "Headmaster Dumbledore said he would organise a private Sorting in his office this evening, so I will find out then."

"Hoping for a house in particular?" Potter asked conspiratorially, leaning forward.

Draco couldn't help the grin that broke out. "Slytherin, I'd say. I like the colours, plus my mother and father were-"

He realised too late that he'd slipped, but he couldn't back out of a half completed sentence like that.

"-both in Slytherin."

Potter nodded at that. "So your parents attended school here, probably around the same time as mine. It's a shame you only moved back here for your last year…you've missed out on so much!"

Draco didn't like the direction the conversation was taking with talk about parents, considering he knew the Potters were dead along with his own mother, and his father was nice and cosy in Azkaban. So he leaped on to Potter's last comment.

"Yes, I heard the Triwizard Tournament was held here a couple of years back," and after the words were out of his mouth, Draco realised that was another bad turn in their chat.

The Gryffindor's face shuttered. "Yeah, it was."

"Ah, I'm sorry," he offered, quite sincerely. "I read about Diggory in the papers. He sounded like a good guy, well, for a Hufflepuff."

"He was," Potter smiled in gratitude, brushing a hand through his hair in what Draco thought could be a nervous gesture. "For a Hufflepuff."

Draco wanted to get away from the topic. "So what house are you in?" he smirked, teasing. "I don't want to have to take away the Seeker position from you."

Potter grinned back. "You think I would give it up so easily? If you're aiming for Slytherin then we won't be in the same house anyway: I'm in Gryffindor."

"Well you're position on the Quidditch team is safe then," his smirk widened. "Though how safe you'll be in the sky against me is questionable."

"Is that a challenge?" the Gryffindor's eyes lit up.

Draco laughed, holding his hand out for the other to slap. "You bet."

Potter smacked his hand and Draco knew – always knew – that Potter and he had such a fierce rivalry going on because they both loved the challenge, the competition. And it was strange to know that it could have been something friendly…like this now. Yes it was nearly always exciting, he thought, but this…this was fun.

"You should come sit with me and my friends for lunch," Potter's eyes glinted behind his glasses. "I don't even mind that you're Slytherin…well, going to be anyway. Ron and Hermione won't mind."

And just like that, Draco was reminded that he wasn't outside the Great Hall. He was standing in front of his Potions class, acting all buddy-buddy with someone who, in reality, despised him fiercely. It was shocking that he himself had forgotten where he was. _When had that happened?_ He jerked his gaze away from Potter, catching Ron and Hermione's eyes briefly.

"They won't mind, you say?" he murmured.

Potter snorted with a wave of his hand. "Course not! They're great. Though just between you and me, I wish they'd hurry up and snog. The tension is terribly frustrating at times."

Draco choked back his laugh, hearing his classmates attempt to stifle their own snickers at this information. He glanced at the pair in question because he _had_ to see their faces, and was delighted by their completely embarrassed expressions. He had to take this further; it was just too good an opportunity to pass up.

"Oh? So why don't you play matchmaker?" he drawled.

"You're kidding right?" Potter exclaimed, shaking his head. "Ron's so bloody clueless it's a little worrying, and for someone so, erm, _assertive_ Hermione is awfully shy about these sorts of things."

Draco relished the squawks of indignation from the back of the room at Potter's words. The best part was he wasn't saying anything…Potter was doing all of the embarrassing on his own. It was positively brilliant.

"Malfoy," Snape said suddenly. "Get ready to catch Potter."

"Sir?"

"Phoenix."

It was the keyword, Draco realised immediately. What he wasn't expecting was for Potter to fall in to some state of hypnotic unconsciousness on his feet and keel forward. He stepped backward for balance as the Gryffindor slammed in to him, unsteady on his feet for a moment.

"Fuck," he exclaimed involuntarily at the collision, Potter weighing much more than he could have anticipated.

He manoeuvred the teen's bulk in to the closest seat with some difficulty, cursing under his breath as no one moved to help him.

"Granger, Weasley! Back to your seats!" Snape barked. "Ten points from Gryffindor."

Draco turned to see the two Gryffindors still out of their seats, their expressions indicating that no amount of docked points could really stop them from checking on their friend.

He rolled his eyes at them. "Potter's fine. I didn't drop him on his head, though it might've done him some good."

Weasley scowled but Granger elbowed him before he could shoot back any retort.

"I was more worried about the way he fell back in to the suggestibility state," she said, her gaze on the professor. "You didn't mention that the potion drinker could be returned to that state or that the keyword wakes as well as sends them back."

"That's what the _demonstration_ is for, Granger," Snape's lip curled as he had to _explain_ something to _her_. "So you can see for yourself, and to show how abruptly the keyword works. Now, get back to your seats or I will dock all remaining house points from Gryffindor."

He turned his back to the pair as his demand was obeyed, carefully picking up another vial from his desk. "Malfoy, your assistance was appreciated."

"Sir," Draco replied, heading toward his own seat between Blaise and Pansy.

"Now," Snape continued, his spelled chalk scrawling over the freshly erased board. "As you _should_ know, most potions have an anti-potion or an antidote of sorts to reverse, limit or null the original potion's effects. The anti-potion for _Aesculapius Hypnoticus_ is actually much more complicated and generally not used frequently since a great many wizards are indolent, preferring to wait the hour or so for the effects of _Aesculapius Hypnoticus_ to wear off."

Snape uncorked the vial containing the anti-potion, approaching Potter's unmoving form. "You, however, will be brewing it regardless. Observe as I administer it to Potter."

XX XX XX

Harry sat bolt upright, coughing a little as he wiped something from his mouth. He almost headbutted the professor in his sudden movement.

Snape scowled. "As you can see, the anti-potion works immediately. Potter, return to your seat."

"Sir," Harry managed, still feeling rather dazed.

He realised, as he sat in his original seat, that his feeling out of sorts was not the after-effects of the potion but rather the memory of the conversation he'd had with Malfoy as it seeped slowly in to his brain. It was amazingly ironic, he thought as he copied down the notes he had missed, that their conversation was close to the one they had as eleven year olds while they had their robes fitted. When they first met. Could he and Malfoy…could they've been… _friends_..? Harry shook his head slightly, refusing to look in the other boy's direction. No way. All through school they were at each other's throats…plus Malfoy was merely going along with him to prove the effects of the hypnosis potion. It didn't mean he was actually friendly to Harry himself.

But it was a little displacing to think that that is how the first ever meeting between them could have gone – if Harry wasn't overwhelmed with all the things he didn't know about the wizarding world, if he hadn't been suspicious of Malfoy from Ron's view of the Malfoy family, if they had just been able to have a conversation. He remembered that the other boy hadn't even recognised him as the Boy Who Lived and still greeted him, affably enough, as he climbed on the stool to get his robes fitted.

Harry shook his head again. He was delving in to it all too much. Malfoy and he were enemies…well maybe they hadn't really hated each other since fifth year; but that was still half a decade of hating just the sight of each other. And how awful Malfoy had been to Hermione and Ron, he couldn't forget about that. Well, Harry conceded, Hermione and Ron gave back as good as they got…and many a time Ron had purposely started something with the Slytherin boy. But still. Harry sighed. That potion, he thought, had caused him an awful lot of bother this morning.

"Potter!"

Harry jerked his head up to stare at the Potions Master. It sounded like he was in trouble, but even though he was thinking he had still been diligently copying the notes down.

"Sir?"

"Give the class an explanation of your experience under the _Aesculapius Hypnoticus_ potion's affects," Snape's chalk was poised, ready to write anything worthwhile that Harry might say.

_Shit_. "Er, it's more like a memory then reality," he tried to explain, terribly. "Like, I don't remember standing there and talking to Malfoy but I have the memory of it and could tell you everything that was said. And my mind remembers it as happening outside the Great Hall rather than in here. I don't remember the real conversation, I just know that it happened…"

Harry trailed off, feeling his description to be highly inadequate. Snape, however, nodded.

"That is due to the imbiber of the potion not being fully aware," Snape's expression changed from blank to as though he'd just eaten a mouthful of vomit-flavoured Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. "A…decent description. Five points to Gryffindor."

Harry was, as expected, gobsmacked. A lot had happened in this double Potions class and he thought it was high time he grabbed himself an early lunch. He must be faint from not enough food; he was sure he'd heard Snape give him five points. He was startled out of his musings as the professor dismissed them, and Harry slowly packed up his belongings. When he looked up Ron and Hermione were both at the door already, waiting for him but clearly not minding the time alone to chat. Harry grinned, feeling a little bad that he must've announced to the class about their emerging/stunted relationship. Though after a moment he figured it might get them to _do_ something about it rather than dance around each other and blush when they accidentally touched. He jumped slightly when a familiar voice punctured his thoughts right beside his desk.

"I've never noticed before," Malfoy said, a hand lightly gripping his chin as though in deep thought while he watched Harry's friends. "They are rather obvious aren't they?"

Harry was speechless for a moment, seeing as how Malfoy was talking to him without insulting him, his friends or his ancestry.

"Well," he started, thinking it a little easier since Malfoy wasn't looking at him. "I just announced it to everyone, so I'm sure that helps in easing it in to the open."

Malfoy's sharp gaze was suddenly on Harry.

"Easing? _Easing_?" he looked a little incredulous, but a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "You call telling the whole class you wish they'd hurry up and snog _easing_ it in to the open?"

Harry chuckled before he could stop himself. "That's hardly fair. I didn't know at the time that it was the whole class!"

Malfoy's smirked faded as his expression turned to what Harry could only describe as introspective. "That's right, you thought it was just me."

Harry felt uncomfortable but couldn't rightly say why.

"Not you _really_ ," he said, feeling the need to point that out. "I didn't know who you were."

"So," the other teen replied, "you felt comfortable telling someone you'd known for all of a couple of minutes that-"

"It was the potion, Malfoy," Harry interrupted, feeling a flicker of …he wasn't certain.

"Yes," the Slytherin shot back. "And all Professor Snape told you was you didn't know me or which house I was in. Everything else was you."

Harry didn't know what the hell Malfoy was trying to get at, and said as much. The other teen looked uneasy for a fleeting moment, nervous even.

"Did…the conversation we have…remind you of anything?"

The Slytherin said it plainly enough, but Harry was immediately drawn back to his thoughts about likening it to their eleven year old selves initial meeting…and how he wondered if they could have been… He glared at Malfoy, but the other boy just stared back. Harry sighed, his venom disappearing. What did he have to lose by giving the other a rather edited version of what he had thought? The conversation had bothered Malfoy enough to speak to him and, he thought, that was rather brave considering their chats from previous years.

"I thought about my eleventh birthday, the day I found out I was a wizard," Harry felt a stab of satisfaction at seeing Malfoy's eyes widen in surprise. "I remember meeting you that day, and most of how our conversation went since you were one of the first wizards I spoke to. Our exchange today while I was under the potion reminded me of that."

Malfoy didn't say anything for a longer than normal moment, staring off somewhere over Harry's right shoulder.

"Yes, it reminded me of that as well," he replied at length. "Do you think…"

Harry's eyebrows rose as Malfoy didn't say anymore. He wondered if the Slytherin thought…

"Do I think what?" he prodded, trying to sound as unthreatening as possible so Malfoy would continue.

The other teen hesitated again. Harry wasn't going to help him along anymore; he had spilt enough to the Slytherin than he cared to admit. But Malfoy had clearly reached his limit.

"Nothing," he said sharply, but he gazed at Harry thoughtfully.

"It was nothing," he repeated, turning to leave.

The Gryffindor thought about telling him to wait, to ask Malfoy if he wondered the same thing as Harry did. But he watched Malfoy leave instead, brushing past Ron and Hermione whom Harry just noticed were watching him.

"What was Malfoy talking to you about?" Hermione asked when Harry drew up beside them. "It seemed rather a civil chat you two were having."

They headed off toward the Gryffindor Tower, wanting to change out of their robes before lunch since they had no further classes after Potions.

"I don't really know," Harry answered, for the most part, truthfully. "It was a little…out of the ordinary."

Ron snorted. "We see you and that git having a civil conversation and you think it's a _little_ out of the ordinary?"

Harry shrugged, still rolling the exchange through his mind. "Potions was out of the ordinary today _period_. I had two separate civil chats with Malfoy, and Snape gave me points…I feel like I'm in the Twilight Zone."

Hermione giggled but Ron didn't grasp the Muggle reference, though clearly didn't want to bring attention to his ignorance. Hermione patted Harry's arm soothingly.

"There, there," she smiled. "I'm sure everything will be back to normal tomorrow."

"It was really weird watching you and Malfoy after you drank that potion," Ron exclaimed, shaking his head slightly in disbelief. "You were like joking, high-fiving and laughing…it was _weird_."

Hermione hummed thoughtfully. "It wasn't completely weird. I mean, it's sort of how you and Malfoy act, isn't it?"

Ron and Harry ceased walking to stare at her with an excusable amount of incredulity. She glanced at their expressions but only sighed as she continued to walk without them.

"What?" said Harry when the boys caught up a second later.

" _What_?" said Ron.

"Well it's different but basically the same," she maintained, leading the way toward the Fat Lady's portrait. "Instead of glaring and yelling you were joking and smiling. You were still at each other."

"Mildura Milhidius," Hermione told the Fat Lady, since neither of the boys could remember this week's password.

Hermione was first through the hole, asking over her shoulder if Ron and Harry were going to Hogsmeade the coming weekend. Ron answered immediately and the pair were off listing the places they wanted to visit. Harry followed slowly, finding it impossible to ignore that Hermione had come to the same sort of conclusion that he had. She had clearly forgotten about it just as quickly as she'd said it because what reason did she have to mull over it. But Harry threw her words around in his mind, adding to that what he himself had thought as well as what Malfoy said before leaving. It only made the conclusion Harry had come to on his own all the more viable: he and Malfoy could have been _friends_.

XX XX XX

Draco wasn't really in the mood to visit Hogsmeade, but he trudged through the light snow beside Pansy and Blaise nevertheless. He felt stupid for replaying his and Potter's last talk over and over in his mind, but it was something that was out of the ordinary and so his mind would bring it back to analyse again and again. Pansy and Blaise were oblivious to his contemplative mood and he quite preferred it like that; Draco didn't need badgering with questions. Draco hadn't bothered with Potter since probably about fifth year – he hadn't bothered with a lot of things since his mother died. It was hard as well to come to terms with the notion that his father was a cruel murdering man. Hard because Lucius had been nothing but caring towards his only son, although he was stern and overbearing at times. And it was weird to wonder over the only thing Draco's father had ever asked of him – to befriend Harry Potter.

It was common knowledge that Draco had failed spectacularly in this task. A failing that had left him bitter enough to push and goad the Boy Who Lived in to a rather different relationship to that of friendship. Not that it was hard to hate Potter with his seemingly endless supply of luck, fame, friends and general success with life. Draco wouldn't name it as envy. Never would he name it as envy. But he was awfully skilled in denial.

"That Potions lesson the other day was a riot, Draco," Pansy broke in to his thoughts loudly. "Merlin, did you see Weasley and Granger's faces? Hilarious!"

Draco half grinned, shaking his thoughts off. "Their expressions were burned in to my retina for future viewing pleasure."

Draco chuckled as Pansy gave a fairly accurate impersonation of Granger's mortified expression, laughing outright when Blaise joined in with an exaggerated imitation of Weasley's embarrassed squawk. Their mirth died away as they paused outside Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, watching Hogwarts students laughing and sampling the thousands of Weasley inventions. Draco had never set foot inside the shop. He doubted any Slytherin had. And what a shame, he thought, considering the many potentially prankish and suspect items the shop contained. But he doubted their presence would be welcome.

Blaise and Pansy weren't interested; already they had moved on to a jewellery shop a little further along the street, noses pressed against the window glass as they admired the shinies on display. Draco snorted as both of his friends entered the store – it was now entirely certain the pair would return to Hogwarts with at least one new piece of jewellery. But his attention was dragged back to the Weasleys' bright storefront. Even from this distance Draco could see interesting gadgets and piles of candies and joke items.

He moved closer, slipping in the door that always seemed to be open with the amount of people coming and going, deciding that most wouldn't pay him any special attention. Once inside, it was hard not to feel impressed by the twins' success, talent and imagination. Draco watched with a slight grin as a first year Ravenclaw put on a traditional wizard's hat that periodically insulted the wearer, before leaning over and heaving in to a bucket labelled 'For Puking Pastille Samplers'. The Slytherin wrinkled his nose in disgust at the sight, moving further in to the loud and bustling atmosphere as he stared at the numerous shelves crammed with interesting and amazing things.

His attention immediately zeroed in on a table covered with miniature models of broomsticks, floating and zooming around. Leaning over the table, Draco spotted what appeared to be the only miniature Nimbus 2001 left. He glanced at the sign above the table that declared the floating brooms' price to be five galleons each, deciding that was a fair cost. He carefully reached out and trapped the tiny Nimbus 2001 between his fingers, before he finally realised that to purchase the broom he would actually have to speak to one of the Weasley twins. He hesitated as he mulled over whether he wanted the toy that much, when he was shoved hard enough to stumble. Draco's eyes snapped to the mini Nimbus 2001 that was crushed underfoot before his expression turned icy, meeting the eyes of one Seamus Finnigan.

"Ah, sorry mate, I didn't…"

Draco's glare narrowed as the Gryffindor halted his apology upon realising who he was speaking to, instead looking down at the mangled toy with clear satisfaction.

"I think that was the last of the 2001s, Malfoy…what a shame you broke it."

A small crowd was already forming and Draco knew he was on the losing side and the wrong territory no matter how much the situation wasn't his fault. He straightened to his full height, at least half a head taller than the stocky Gryffindor, and continued to glare.

"What's happening over here?"

One of the twins appeared in the gathering, Draco didn't know which Weasley it was – they were both trouble – and immediately spotted Malfoy and the broken model broom.

"You break it you buy it, Malfoy…that'll be twenty galleons."

Draco scowled. "The sign says five."

The Weasley mirrored the scowl, equally annoyed. "And that was also the last Nimbus 2001, so I say twenty."

"Fuck off," Draco growled, digging angrily in his robes to pull out his wallet. "Here's five. You're lucky I'm even giving you that."

Turning on his heel, Draco stormed out of the store. He should've known not to enter in the first place, and now he had wasted money with nothing but a foul mood to show for it. He caught up to Pansy and Blaise outside the jewellery store, both keeping quiet in the face of Draco's changed mood as they followed him back to Hogwarts.

XX XX XX

Harry stared after Malfoy as he whirled out of Weasleys' Wizards Wheezes, clearly bristling with anger. Once the boy was out of sight, he immediately pinned his stare to Seamus. He had seen what happened of course, since he was the one who had accidentally sent Seamus off-balance with a surprising mirror that apparently showed the face of 'Your One True Love'. Both boys had been a little startled when Dean Thomas' face appeared. Harry thought the trick mirror had an enchantment on it that made the likeness of someone you thought about often appear, since Dean and Seamus were best friends…but the other boy's reaction made Harry wonder. In any case, Harry saw everything from behind Seamus, thus he was witness to Malfoy's surprisingly controlled anger and indignation, and the brief expression of disappointment at the ruined toy. The miniature broom models were a favourite of the Gryffindor himself as well since the enchantment on them didn't seem to wear off, and he had collected a Nimbus 2001 along with a Nimbus 2000, Firebolt and an old-school Cleansweep Seven. Where the thought came from, Harry wasn't too sure, but it was firmly ingrained in his mind that he could possibly part with his miniature Nimbus 2001.

He caught Seamus' eye with what he hoped was a serious look. "Why don't you explain to George what really happened."

The other teen looked ready to argue, despite a suitably guilty expression creeping in to his face, but George was quickly by their side.

"Yes, why don't we tell George what really happened."

The redhead looked annoyed, not that Harry could blame him; the Nimbus 2001s were the most popular of the tiny brooms and the most difficult to emulate, Fred had told him when he bought his own many months ago.

"Ah, well…" Seamus started, not looking entirely comfortable. "It might have been me who broke the broom…"

George blinked, clinking together the coins Malfoy had handed over. " _Might have_ been you?"

Harry sighed. "It was an accident."

He didn't bother explaining how it had happened, especially since Seamus seemed to be trying to tell him with his eyebrows alone to not mention the gag mirror.

The older boy shook his head. "I'm surprised the git didn't say so. Nevermind…he probably owed me five galleons for _something_."

Still, as Harry left the joke shop with Seamus to meet up with the rest of the Gryffindors at the Three Broomsticks, he couldn't help but feel some righteous irritation on Malfoy's behalf.

XX XX XX

It was during dinner that night that a small owl delivered an even smaller package to Draco. Pansy, Blaise and the other Slytherins sitting close by leaned forward with the same curiosity Draco himself felt as he unwrapped the simple brown parcel. It held no clues to the sender; just a small square of parchment that said 'Draco Malfoy' in slightly messy slanted cursive. A tiny model of a Nimbus 2001 zoomed out of the last of the brown paper that Draco peeled away, cruising between the goblets and plates before settling to float in front of him, an inch or two from the table's surface.

"Oooh!" smiled Pansy, poking it with her finger. "Isn't it cute!"

Blaise leaned around Draco for a better look. "It looks exactly like a Nimbus 2001. Well-made too. Who sent you that?"

"No name," Pansy replied, scrutinising the parchment.

Once the excitement had been transferred to the newly arrived dessert, Draco allowed himself to pick up the tiny broom and inspect it with the same fondness he had felt in the Weasleys' shop. It wasn't a new toy – there was a little dent in the tail – meaning this belonged to someone and they had given it to him. He looked over to the Gryffindor table subtly, immediately seeking out Seamus Finnigan. The Irish boy was busy chatting animatedly with Dean Thomas. Draco doubted the gift was from him, but then didn't know who else would've have sent it.

Out of habit his eyes sought out Potter, and was a little startled to find the other teen already watching him. Potter tilted his head a little, hand lifting in a faint sort of wave despite still holding a spoon. And then Draco knew who, but didn't understand why. He nodded down at the floating model broom, mouth lifting at the corner when Potter grinned slightly. Draco rolled his eyes but couldn't wipe the small smile from his face. The Gryffindor obviously chuckled aloud, and was quickly drawn in to conversation with his house mates once more, leaving the Slytherin to think over what this could mean.

XX XX XX

It wasn't until the Slytherin/Gryffindor quidditch game that Harry had the definite understanding of knowing something had changed. As captain of the house team, he had shaken hands with Slytherin's captain, Urquhart, and glanced behind him to see Malfoy. Malfoy had cocked his brow and lifted his chin in what Harry would have described as the other boy's usual challenging arrogance, save for the slight grin he sported this time. Harry always felt spirited and hyped before a quidditch game, and perhaps that would explain his laugh and comment to Malfoy as he jumped on his broom.

"Bring it on, Malfoy. Let's see how safe you are up there!"

They had raced at breakneck speed to the pitch in the sky, diving and feinting over the course of the game to confuse and unsettle each other as they kept a sharp lookout for the snitch.

Now Harry flew rather lazily around the Gryffindor's defending side of the pitch, keeping one eye on the action and another on a flash of gold if it should appear. The game was proving to be a little longer than the norm, with the snow falling lightly to hinder visibility just enough to be an annoyance. The score was almost even with Gryffindor ahead by only twenty points. It was at that moment that Harry saw a fast flicker of movement, and he turned fully to see Malfoy flying toward the middle of the pitch. Harry dived toward the spot the other Seeker was heading for, knowing Malfoy wasn't feinting with the intense look of determination he could see even through the light snow; his own determination kicking in when he too spotted the glint of the golden snitch. Eyes on nothing but that glittering snitch, Harry trusted in his team mates to protect him from Slytherin's Beaters while he was preoccupied. He felt a whoosh of air as a bludger flew past a little too close for comfort, and he heard Ron yell encouragement from his position in front of the goal posts. What the Gryffindor realised a split second later was the bludger wasn't aimed at him, and that Slytherin Beaters weren't quite as protective of their team as the Gryffindors with the way the ball was headed unerringly toward Malfoy.

The impact was loud enough to send a horrified hush over the stadium, and Harry could have grabbed the snitch easily. But the game was far from his mind as he plastered himself against his broom to fly faster, hand reaching out not to close around a golden ball but Malfoy's wrist, his whole body jerking with the sudden extra weight. His grip was hardly firm, what with grabbing for the falling body in midair, so Harry was quick to land his broom; Madam Pomfrey already rushing over to them with her wand out and a bag of potions.

There was blood and Malfoy was unconscious and he wasn't sure why he was so worried and hovering as Professor McGonagall and Snape assisted the nurse in transporting the injured teen. And when the game was put on hold for the time being and Harry found himself in the Gryffindor common room with the rest of his peers, he could only fidget and glance at the portrait entrance – waiting for the first available moment to slip upstairs and grab his invisibility cloak.

It wasn't until almost midnight did Harry have the opportunity to sneak out with rousing his sleeping friends, just about to throw his cloak over himself as he strode across the common room when Hermione's voice made him jump.

"You're going to the hospital wing to check on Malfoy, aren't you?"

She watched him from the comfort of a big lounge chair in front of the common room fire, an enormous book propped open in her lap.

He frowned, not altogether willing to answer the question. "It's the middle of the night, Hermione…you can't possibly be studying now?"

"Of course not!" she glanced down at her book, before mirroring Harry's frown. "I'm reading this for fun. In any case, don't change the subject. You've been restless and far from talkative since the quidditch match. Why are you concerned for Malfoy?"

Harry sighed, shrugging and unsure. "I…don't know. Things have changed."

Hermione rested her chin in her hands, watching her friend closely. "Changed?"

He searched for words, coming up with the only way to explain everything. "I don't hate him."

The pair were quiet for a long while.

"I suppose there's no reason to…is there?" Hermione murmured eventually, closing her book and standing. "Let me know how he is. See you in the morning."

"Night," Harry managed to her back as she climbed the stair to the girls' dorm, surprised that she was so agreeable.

He didn't dwell on it long as he quickly pulled the invisibility cloak over himself, quietly making his way to the hospital wing. Pushing the door open silently, Harry crept in to the wards, moving along the beds until he saw Malfoy – awake and watching his miniature Nimbus flying lazily around his bed. Standing beside the bed in the dim light of Malfoy's table lamp, Harry pulled off his cloak, particularly amused by the Slytherin's reaction.

"Merlin's Beard, Potter!" Malfoy smothered his slight squawk of surprise quickly. "I've already got concussion! Are you trying to give me a heart attack too?"

"Now then, what would be the point of that," Harry grinned, eyeing the model broom as it fluttered above the hospital bed.

"…Thanks," Malfoy muttered quietly, eyes averted as he studied the hem of his bedsheets.

"Yeah, well, Seamus can be an idiot sometimes," the Gryffindor said apologetically. "But he's alright. He felt bad about it afterward."

The other teen stared at him for a moment, incredulous. "Not the model Nimbus you trollop! For stopping my fall before I smooshed in to the ground!"

After a short awkward moment, Malfoy looked away, a pink tinge to his face. "Well…you know…thanks."

"…Yeah," said Harry faintly. "It's okay."

They fell in to an uneasy silence, only punctuated by the broom's slight fluttering.

"Did you really only learn you were a wizard on your eleventh birthday?" Malfoy asked suddenly, almost in a rush of words.

Harry chuckled lightly, leaning against the edge of the bed. "Yeah. The muggles I lived with were far from pleased, and tried to pretty much beat the magic out of me. Hagrid was the first wizard I remember meeting."

"That must have been…disconcerting," Malfoy managed politely.

Harry stared at the other boy for a moment before laughing aloud. "Hagrid bashing down the door and trying to explain everything about the wizarding world in one night was a tad unusual, I must admit, but it certainly explained a lot of things."

"Like what?"

"Like the time I accidentally somehow made my aunty blow up like a balloon."

Malfoy barked out a short laugh, mouth curled at the corners. "I remember I did that once to my-"

He cut himself off abruptly, giving Harry the impression he was likely talking about one of his parents. It was a far too touchy subject for the both of them.

"Why are you here?" Malfoy said instead, tone more subdued.

Harry shrugged, considered leaving his answer at that but thought it unfair since Malfoy had the courage to broach the subject. Though still, the only answer he could think of was the one he had given Hermoine.

"I don't hate you."

Malfoy stared at him for a long moment, until, "Why not?"

Harry raised a brow. "Why should I?"

The Slytherin's eyes narrowed. "You can't answer a question with another question. And I can think of a few reasons without really trying."

He began to number incidents on his fingers. "Well, there was the time I really tried to hurt you-"

"If I remember correctly, I returned the favour much more thoroughly."

"Oh yeah...thanks for the enormous scar by the way."

"Fuck. I am really-"

"Don't say it, Potter!" Malfoy grimaced. "Just...don't say it. You _know_ what curse I was about to throw at you. No point in saying sorry just because you moved faster."

"I...didn't actually know what it was going to do," Harry frowned at the memory and his complete stupidity. "I didn't expect _that_."

Malfoy stared at him, eyes wide. "You used an unknown on me..? You really do hate me."

"Did."

"What?"

"Did hate you."

"...Right."

Harry sighed, avoiding the other teen's eyes. "So, do you think we're even?"

"What?" Malfoy frowned. "Am I always going to ask 'What?' when we talk? Is Gryffindor thick-headedness contagious or something?"

"When?" Harry asked quickly, surprised and pleased.

"When what?" Malfoy dropped his head in to his hands rather melodramatically. "...Ugh, it _is_ catching isn't it? Soon I'll be limited to 'What?', 'Please don't dock points!' and 'Chicken pie!' ...Merlin, the humiliation."

Harry grinned and then laughed; Malfoy was surprisingly funny in a drama queen sort of way.

"I mean," said Harry after he sobered somewhat, feeling awkward about clarifying and pushing what he really wanted to ask out in the open, "well, you said _when_ we talk. Not _if_."

Malfoy sat very still before looking up slowly at the miniature broom still flitting around. "...I suppose I did, yes."

They both sat silently, understanding the implications of Malfoy's comment and recognising what they were getting themselves in to.

"I..." said the Slytherin, but he didn't speak for a long moment. "Madam Pomfrey's not going to discharge me any time soon. Maybe...perhaps you could bring breakfast around tomorrow morning? Oh, because, you know, the food in the hospital wing isn't any where near as good as the food in the Hall..."

Harry didn't reply immediately, and was a little surprised to see the other teen look openly uncertain.

"Or not. I...I'm sure I can stomach-"

"No," Harry interrupted, shaking his head at himself. "I mean, yes, I'll do that. Visit, uh, with breakfast."

He grinned as Malfoy relaxed. "I've been in here often enough to wish someone had done the same for me."

The Slytherin rolled his eyes, shooing his hands at Harry with a slight tilt of his lips. "Yes, I know. I often wondered why you didn't just move in to the infirmary. In any case, I promise to return the favour if you land a bludger to the skull. But you had best leave; it's quite late...or early depending which way you look at it."

"Right," returned Harry, still smiling as he stood poised to throw his cloak over his head once more. "So, I'll...see you tomorrow...then?"

Malfoy finally smiled fully. "Yeah."


End file.
